


Each to the thorn tree

by anthiese



Series: I really should go to sleep instead of making this [7]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Pre-Time Skip, not rly shippy but. wanted the tag to start existing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:54:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22622866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anthiese/pseuds/anthiese
Summary: The battle of Garreg Mach rages outside, and two healers are still at work.For the Felannie server drabble challenge!
Relationships: Mercedes von Martritz/Marianne von Edmund
Series: I really should go to sleep instead of making this [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1592482
Comments: 7
Kudos: 25
Collections: Bread Eaters, Those Who Drabble in the Dark





	Each to the thorn tree

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE- i wasn't sure if it was explicit/detailed enough to need a warning in the tags, but there's vague implication of suicidal thoughts. you know how it is, stay safe and keep away if necessary, love you.
> 
> Coffee's prompt for this week: Write an interaction between two characters who have no canon interactions, supports, etc in the game. You have 200-600 words. Go!  
> merciemari... lowkey ship of mine born thru laughs and giggles with bina about gay nuns... and then i make this. sorry, but enjoy! 🥺

Mercedes has barely lifted her hands from Alois, his wound now clean and stitched up nicely, when the ground beneath them starts trembling. She sees dust rise at the horizon, but her attention shifts again when Alois stands up and puts a hand on her shoulder. 

“You young ladies should start retreating to the bridge. Leave it to the Knights now, will you?” 

He runs off before Mercedes can even focus on the color of his eyes—she only sees the Crest of Seiros embroidered in his white cape and the cherry-red that stains it, fluttering as he walks away, and once more she stays behind, sitting in the dirt before the gates of the reception hall. 

Students and townsfolk run past her, towards the bridge and the cathedral and the one safe route out of the monastery, and Mercedes turns to her side, to the only other people sitting still in the yard, a soldier holding tight onto their bleeding leg, and Marianne completing her healing spell. Then the soldier gets up to follow Alois’s trail, their uncovered skin still glowing with leftover magic, and Mercedes doesn’t have the time to blink before Marianne slumps into her arms. 

The earth trembles again, and Marianne shakes in her grasp, her forehead covered in freezing sweat. She’s pushed her magic too far, and the only thing Mercedes can do is soothe her, stroking her hair and conjuring the last sparks of her own magic, until Marianne stirs and open her eyes. 

Only then does Mercedes allow herself to look up: she sees the gray sky, wounded by the hundred arrows thrown against it, and she sees the white figure that flies high above the monastery, to the Imperial army marching forward; something she’s heard of in tales, read about in scriptures.

The deliverer. 

“Goddess,” comes a voice beneath her, “are we saved?” 

Then Marianne starts struggling weakly against her grasp. 

“I... I have to join her,” she says, “she’s here for me.” 

Mercedes doesn’t dare look back down to her face. She keeps looking up, sees the arrows fall, pierce the immaculate white scales, and she hears the roars of the beasts outside, and she sees the creature bleed red as if descends beyond the walls. If she were alone, she would undoubtedly put her trust into the Goddess, and believe and know and witness the creature tearing through the enemy and coming out victorious. But she isn’t, and her heart freezes. 

“No.” She replies, helping Marianne back on her feet. “No, no, no, no...” 

Marianne can’t look away from the sky. Mercedes makes her, grabbing her hand and tugging in the direction of the other students running down the bridge. 

“We have to go,” she tells her. 

Marianne blinks, her soft eyes welling up with fear as she squeezes her hand. “I... She’s come for us. She’s here, Mercedes...” 

“She’s here,” Mercedes repeats, willing herself to not look back to the creature fighting, crying and losing the battle just beyond the walls of Garreg Mach. She’s here and she’s dying, and Marianne wants to go with her, but Mercedes can’t let her. 

“She’s giving us this chance,” Mercedes tells her instead. “Let’s not waste it.” 

She tugs Marianne’s hand once more, away from the walls, away from the battle, and Marianne sobs a single time, before following her. 

On their slow march to safety, down the steep cliffs of Garreg Mach, surrounded by trembling students and crying orphans, Marianne prays for the Immaculate One.

Mercedes prays for Marianne. 


End file.
